Turning Nursing Facilities Into a Home
At our last writing support group for caregivers, the subject of nursing facilities arose, threaded with guilt for “putting mom or dad away.”
I speak from my own experiences of having my mother in a nursing facility during the last one and a half years of her life. I did not put her away. During her last stages of Alzheimer’s, it was time for someone with more capability and expertise to take over caregiving. I was down to 94 pounds and couldn’t turn her over due to retina problems.
I became part of this family of professionals at the nursing facility.
As starters, I did their bulletin boards and the front counter with a holiday theme every season. The staff was delighted to get off the elevator and be greeted with an attractive bulletin board or a flower arrangement or a poem.
I visited my mother to feed her at lunch and my brother Paul did the dinners.
I wheeled all the others into the solarium for their meals and after feeding my mother, I fed others. I helped to pass their lunch trays to those who were bed-ridden. Sometimes, I took their laundry and had the residents do the folding after their lunch in the Solarium. So I knew the other residents on my mother’s floor. Paul did the same.
I left treats in the nurses lounge to show my appreciation.
When I saw a need for change, I got involved. I wanted each staff member to see my mother not only as a resident, but as a family member. I wanted each staff member to care deeply , not only at a physical level, but at an emotional level. I wanted each person to look forward to work and to feel pride and joy. Through the director, I conducted training workshops for all the staff at each shift.
They brain-stormed on how to become happier and more efficient in their work. This is one of the results of our brain-storming. This list was posted on the wall in the lounge.
I asked each staff member to work on one area of change. We listed these on a chart and left them on the wall in their lounge. We had follow up sessions and they bought into this, with full force and began to work on their own individual areas of need . Some were simple: Wait until residents swallow their food before putting another spoonful into their mouths. Know each person’s name. If a resident was a former doctor, call him or her by their known title instead of Papasan or Mama-san.
We learned to dignify each patient who was under their care. Eventually, we all transformed the floor into a family unit and soon other floors began to follow suit. They got competitive in a good way, each trying to be the best in human care. We ran a door decorating contest for each resident during Christmas for families.I played my flute badly and they applauded and one residents asked if I had a CD she could purchase.
Yes, I had to ignore that feeling that arose at times: I’m paying close to $6,000 a month and why should I be doing all this work? Because it needed to be done for the sake of my mother. After my mother and I left, another family member continued what I had started.
So, no, I didn’t put her away. I went with her.
During the one and a half years, I initiated the removal of one health aide after she poured scalding hot water over my mother during her bath. You can say I became a sort of watchdog.
On the day my mother died, I came out of her room and the entire staff stood in a line against the wall outside my mother’s room. They had tears on their faces. We hugged each other without saying a word. This is what families do.
To be continued in my next posting: The entire staff brainstormed and made a Let Me Make a Difference list of commitments and a I Am Somebody list of requests from the voice of the residents. These became permanent on the wall of their lounge.These two lists will be forth-coming.
Frances Kakugawa's Blog 